


No More Picnics

by ZephyrOfAllTrades



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, At least in my head, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Prefects' Bathroom, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Mutual Pining, No Smut, Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, but not part of the scene, but they will be in the future, the mermaid ships them, they are both oblivious, they don't get together at the end of the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:22:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24237229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZephyrOfAllTrades/pseuds/ZephyrOfAllTrades
Summary: After a grueling Quidditch practice, Aziraphale gives himself a relaxing bath. Someone comes along to visit.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 59





	No More Picnics

**Author's Note:**

> Because I can't open my email without getting reminded of work, I sat down to do this. :D
> 
> This is part of my personal Hogwarts AU which had been started but not finished, just added a little steam to the scene which didn't have it before.
> 
> No beta cause I can't keep my own schedule nowadays, much less sync with others. So beware of errors.
> 
> Enjoy!

Sconces trailed light over the figure slinking in between the shadowy alcoves. Said figure was tall and beneath the oversized coat he was lanky and wore a rumpled shirt and tight pants. A green and silver striped tie wound around his bright red hair to contain the curls bouncing past his shoulders. His shoes tapping silently as he walked on the stone flooring.

He soon reached a corridor and counted out the doors. He stopped in front of one and pressed his ears to the wood. Inside he heard the splashing of water. He nudged it open and felt the tell-tale brush of the anti-intruder jinx wash over him. It had no effect on him whatsoever. It was either the spell caster was far too incompetent to do the spell properly or far too advanced to have placed the powerful spell over the entrance while admitting certain exceptions. The figure grinned knowing it was the latter. He’d had far too many similar experiences.

Still, the red-head opened the door only wide enough to peek into the gloomy space. He was reassured when his eyes landed on a Ravenclaw emblem. He took one last careful glance at the stretch of corridor he was lurking in and sensing no one about, he let the door creak open wider and let himself in.

Aziraphale lowered himself into the bubbling bath of the prefect’s bathroom. He wasn’t allowed but the Quidditch Captain had given him the password. He didn’t often take advantage of the privilege but he’s had a rather hard day so he though a little indulgence wouldn’t hurt. Gabriel had pushed them up to eight that night for Quidditch practice, and kept him a half hour more doing drills while the others set back up the castle, casting apologizing looks at him behind the overbearing prefect. Gabriel wasn’t part of the team, but it didn’t stop him from making sure their game plans for practice ran smoothly. The Quidditch Captain couldn’t even put a word in edgewise during the pre-practice meeting and ran off just after they had landed to trek back for dinner.

_I didn’t get to have dinner_ , Aziraphale pouted to himself. Gabriel left him to clean up the field. It had rained that as soon as he was left alone and he had to wait for it to clear to properly check the supplies in the dark. He huddled in the tent for more than an hour but he didn’t want to be both tired _and_ wet. He passed the time by taking mental stock of possible resources he could check for the three rolls of parchment waiting for him for his History of Magic homework. It distracted him from his body’s painful spasms. His arms were screaming from whacking bludger after bludger. At one point he wanted to take his bat to Gabriel’s head but instead shot the maddening ball particularly close to his ear instead. He got the message, but had remarkably kept his condescending facade. Gabriel gets stricter the nearer a match gets. Thankfully it was a Friday night and he could sleep in the next day.

The bathroom door creaked open, thankfully his body was already submerged in foamy water.

“You could knock you know.” Aziraphale growled, he had kept his wand behind his ear and was already in his hands before the door had closed shut. Any further indication of an ambush and he would be ready.

“I’m pretty sure you won’t object to me paying you a visit, angel,” came a teasing voice from the entranceway.

“Crowley?” he asked, forgetting the spell he hastily casted on the door. He should have already known it was his friend for nobody else could pass through it. He turned in the pool to watch his friend affix his own spell to keep any noise from within undetectable to passing entities or humans from outside. It was a little ritual they’ve been doing for far too long that had become instinct at some point.

“Hey, Aziraphale. Uh, are you decent? Mind if I come closer?” Crowley, the red-head, called.

“Oh, yes, I’m already in,” he sounded gruff and felt warm but he was pretty certain it was not because of the bath. He’s been friends with Crowley since their first year in Hogwarts and after spending a lot of time together, he’d started becoming aware of how attractive his friend got as the years stretched on. He didn’t harbor any hopes of requited attraction, though. He knew his body was far too round, too soft to catch anybody’s eyes, much less Crowley’s. He simply scolded his body’s reactions and schooled them to forget taking interest during their secret chats. Although their current meet-up felt too intimate, he was determined to act unaffected. He won’t risk making his friend uncomfortable.

“Sorry for barging in like this,” the red-head sauntered over. “But I didn’t see you at dinner and your teammates told me your boss got you doing drills.” He sat by the edge of the bath, four feet to Aziraphale’s left and placed a basket between them. “Looks like you had a rough time,” the red-head grinned following the trail of hastily discarded robes with his eyes. It was unlike Aziraphale to toss his clothes off haphazardly. It wasn’t a usual occurrence but people have their moments. He usually folded them into neat little piles even before setting them into the hamper.

Aziraphale blinked shyly at the mess he left behind. His blue Quidditch robes pooled just inside the door, his tie chucked away to land by the nearest pillar and other pieces of his clothing littered the floor looking like debris tossed about after a storm. “Wasn’t in the mood to be careful,” he said with a little shake of his head. “And Gabriel’s not my boss,” he grunted, shoulders sagging. “Although he called my extra hours at practice as punishment for failing his _performance review_.”

“Tell me you didn’t interrupt him during one of his speeches?” Crowley glanced at his friend who gave him a guilty smile and slid his body lower into the water, white-blonde hair camouflaged perfectly with the surrounding suds. “What did you say to him this time?” Crowley groaned. Gabriel didn’t like being interrupted during his talks and woe to those who steal the spotlight from him.

“Marie was starting to feel the pressure and I thought she needed a nice pep-talk,” the blonde started. “Told her all she needed to remember was to have fun during the game, the way she usually does when flying. I guess my voice was a little too loud. Gabriel heard me at the back of the tent and cornered me after practice. Although I think it was better that way, every one else had a good head start before Gabriel told them all to stay back for one more round about the field, and – “

“Angel,” Crowley sighed, the old nickname a smile away from an endearment. He took his glasses off to pinch the bridge of his nose. Aziraphale had been acting as martyr for the rest of the Ravenclaw quidditch team and some of his housemates which many are grateful for but extensive exposure to Gabriel would sometimes leave him depressed. He turned his focus to the stained-glass mermaid waiving her hands about at the other end of the bathroom, it made a ‘go on’ gesture between him and the blonde and he hoped his friend did not notice. He pushed the basket sideways towards his friend. The mermaid raised a dainty eyebrow at him then rolled her eyes when he kept his gaze fixed towards her.

Aziraphale rose higher to get a look into the basket his friend brought with him, forgetting his nakedness. He hadn’t noticed it earlier, far too exhausted. But there could only be food in there, he was sure, or at least he hoped.

“Thought he’d keep you from eating again, so I popped into the kitchen for a few things. Guessed you’d be too pissed and would try unwinding here,” there was a hint of smugness in the red-head’s tone for confirming his assumptions were correct.

“Oh - oh Crowley, thank you.” Aziraphale should feel vulnerable for being read so easily but it was Crowley. He didn’t mind. In fact, he felt elated at the idea that his friend knew him so well. “You do take good care of me, my dear.”

He splashed closer to the basket, eyes sparkling at the mini feast he saw within. They’d had similar engagements before in other parts of the castle. Although both clothed. They had been friends for the last five years but had to keep meeting in secret. Their respective Prefects - Gabriel and Belle - were very competitive and would nag both of them to stay away from each other so as not to “sully” their House’s values, especially as Crowley was seeker for the Slytherins.

Most of the Ravenclaws knew to keep their mouths shut when they see the two together. They had a system of protecting Gabriel’s ‘favourites’. If the boy was busy with someone specific, less of his toxic behavior would reach the others. This was how he got the password for the bathroom, and a few boxes of chocolate frogs. But there were of course a number of his goons marching around. Gabriel wasn’t physical in his attacks, but he can don detentions as severe as the worst of the professors. No one could complain, really. A Prefect’s word always had more weight.

The Slytherins on the other hand went clawing to Belle as fast as they could to rat him out. They tried bribing Crowley a couple of times, but he had none of it, taking a few hits from Hastur and Ligur when he and Aziraphale had been a little less careful during a few of their meetings. But mostly he had great talent for staying hidden should he wished.

“You even got a few bottles of Butterbeer. Hope you didn’t overdo it with the house elves again,” the blonde admonished but was eagerly opening up the bottles for them to share.

“Nah, I kept the compliments to a minimum this time. I can’t carry a barrel without getting caught,” he laughed. Aziraphale laughed with him. The red-head did have a silver tongue and that combined with eager house elves blows things out of proportion, as they have learned a year before. He watched his friend while meticulously devouring the goodies he’d been offered.

They had first told themselves that they were only arranging meetings to get homework done quickly. Aziraphale was better at History of Magic than Herbology where Crowley was becoming a master. Aziraphale had also been better at Charms with Crowley getting along with Transfiguration. But both knew they only wanted each other’s company. And more and more of their rendezvous were spent just them chatting, eating and complaining about their respective prefects.

“Can you help heat the water for me Crowley? I really need to get my arms to relax. I stopped counting how many strikes I took.” He wasn’t the sporty type but Aziraphale found himself a natural with a Beater’s bat. He had only missed one strike so far, and he had been a member of the team for two years. To Gabriel’s great disappointment, although he sometimes wondered if it was delight, his muscles were still hidden under layers of fat. The prefect greatly enjoyed telling him to ‘lose his gut’ in the most crowded of places.

Crowley tweaked a nearby faucet to add steaming water into the pool. The water did not overflow. It never did. He heard Aziraphale sigh. The sound made him shiver although the steam had him sweating a little. He popped open a few of his shirt’s buttons, to cool off. He heard a soft gasp from beside him. He supposed the water was finally doing its job. He wanted to turn his head but he kept his eyes forward, the mermaid sniggering at his stubbornness. He wondered if Aziraphale looked as flushed as when Crowley presented him with crepes the last time they ventured out of Diagon alley and into Muggle London. He wanted to see more of Aziraphale’s pale skin, but he he’d already had a hard time wrenching his eyes away those first few unguarded minutes. _Hormones_ , he groused internally. He’d been hiding his feelings from Aziraphale so well he’s not sure if the blonde noticed how romantic he tried to make their many secret outings and how much he wanted to pin him to a wall afterwards.

Aziraphale on the other hand had shut his eyes close to avoid himself glancing at the few stretches of bare chest he saw. He surreptitiously brought his knees up, not fully trusting the thick foam floating atop the water.

“Shoulders still sore?” the red-head asked after a minute of tense silence.

“A bit,” Aziraphale replied hoarsely, but the body parts he most definitely wanted to take care of was not his shoulders. There was a shuffling behind him. His eyes flew open as warm long-fingered hands landed on his stiff upper back.

“Is this okay?” he heard a breathless hiss by his ear. He could only nod, a whimper was trying to claw its way out his throat.

It became harder and harder to stay silent as Crowley’s fingers dug into the muscles at the base of his neck and slid to skim his scapular muscles. His skin was singing, his body hotter than the water around him. He could feel the tender scrapes of nails, his mind supplying a vivid picture of the red head below him, clinging to him, scratching him as he helped him reach his pleasure. He grimaced at the indecency of his thoughts while its subject was _right behind him_.

His breaths became shallower as he felt the push and pull of fingers on his sore muscles. His mouth hung open panting as the red-head brought his hands over his upper arms, lean body hovering just above his head. There was heat around him and in him, pooling at his lower abdomen. A part of his mind, the one urging him to unclench his fists and give himself a good stroke, was nearing a state of deliriousness as he felt his friend’s touches sear him to his core. Just as he was tethering at the edge of sanity, he felt Crowley’s hands squeeze his arms one last time then recede.

He blinked, stunned at the sudden coolness of the air around him as Crowley shuffled away. He took a moment to get his bearings back. He rolled his shoulders and cricked his neck. _His friend was helping him relax_ , he chastised himself. It was just a massage and he was taking advantage of his touch. He groaned, an almost painful note, as he swept away his fantasies off the forefront of his mind.

“A-are you alright?” Crowley breathed out.

“Ye-yes,” he gulped. “T-thank you, Crowley. I think you got the knots out,” he kept his head hung low and eyes shut, not yet ready to meet the red-head’s eyes. He knew his own would still be clouded over with lust.

“R-right. Yeah. Um. Glad I could help,” he stammered out, there was the scuffling of shoes as Crowley hauled himself upright. “Er, it’s getting late, think I should get going. See you tomorrow, angel.” And he was gone.

Crowley was a mess. He usually was. But had become more so at the first tentative swipes over the blonde’s skin. In his head, he screamed at himself. The massage was a bad idea. He failed. He had touched. And now he wanted more. His sense of clarity was crumbling around him. Everything felt marvelous under his palms. Soft and smooth but firm at the same time. And that was just Aziraphale's back. What of his thighs? What of his arse cheeks? Crowley suppresed a shiver as he wondered how it would feel like to claw at them as he pulled the blonde closer to him, to meld their bodies as close as they could. He involuntarily dug his nails deeper than they should. His subconscious stopped him, yelling in panic should Aziraphale notice.

He took deep breaths to steady himself and contented himself to kneading the other boy’s muscles. But his wandering hands were not content. He belatedly found himself on his knees behind the blonde, hands sliding down the his arms, lower and lower. He wondered if he’d let them go farther south, leaping from arms to thighs, and thighs to crotch. He was bending down, lowering himself to follow his questing fingers. He could see the flushed skin coming nearer, his mouth twitched to open in a soundless gasp, readying itself to claim a bite to the side of the Aziraphale’s neck and suck until he was certain he’d leave a mark.

A stray white curl brushed his check. It was like a soft caress that had his mind reeling him back to reality. What he was doing should not go any further. He gathered his scattered brain cells to order his hands to stop and retreat. He crawled back and whined silently as his movements jostled the tent in his pants and knew he had to flee before Aziraphale turns back around to look at him.

He made a hasty retreat, words and actions blurring until he found himself outside the bathroom door taking large gulps of the evening air. After the heat from the bath, stepping into the corridor felt like leaping into the Hogwarts lake at night. Just what he needed, or else he would have made a mess of himself before he had time to run back to his room in the dungeons.

It would not be their last encounter with regards to touch. They were part of a rather ineffable game which would take years to play out, but in the meantime, both boys grimaced at their cowardice. Both feeling far too excited, confused and ashamed at what had transpired. But they managed to pick themselves back up to greet each other again and fall back into their old routine. But ever since that night, a silent but mutual rule had been forged:

No more picnics.

At least, not yet.

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone is interested at the lead up to this scene and what comes after including the possible picnic, tell me! It's almost summer break and I could come back to this.
> 
> "Don't you have an ongoing WIP?"  
> -Yes.  
> "...."  
> -I'm... working on it....  
> "Promise?"  
> -Yes.
> 
> XD
> 
> I'd appreciate comments and kudos! Or buy me a [coffee <3.](https://ko-fi.com/zephyrofalltrades)


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